Apologies to HollyBridgetPeppermint, but I really could not wait any longer. Any corrections sent to me will be corrected; I shall send the third chapter as soon as I finish it.

Update 1/19/11: I have run through the story again and found things that needed a little extra explaining, and parts that wanted different wording. I have changed them now.


In Which the Second Protagonist is Introduced and the Action Rises

Now, as everyone knows, firewitches are rare. But for whatever reason, Manape has more than its fair share of firewitches. Most people assume that it has something to do with the climate, but of course nobody wants to ask the firewitches- for fear of being found offensive. No one wants to face down a firewitch's irritated wrath, and death by flames. After all, everyone knows firewitches are temperamental.

The particular firewitch in this story was actually born of two fine, upstanding, traditional citizens of Manape (instead of migrating there, as most firewitches do when they come of an age to leave the home of their parents). Heaven knows why. No one else, not even the third cousins in the mostly firewitch-inhabited town, had even an inkling of magic. Anyway, needless to say, her parents were horrified. However, they held out great hopes for their child anyways; they named her Tana and had her trained in witchly arts, in the hope that she would be a great help to some hero or other on a great quest when she came of age.

Oh, how little they knew.

Naturally, that was not what happened. No, instead she became the questor in question.

She was called, respectfully (of course), Tana Millersdaughter, as was the way in Manape, as her parents were the town's miller and his wife. She much disliked the name and preferred to be called Tana Mil. She had recently achieved mastery at the Manape University of Sorcery, and was en route west, to home.

Due to unforseen circumstances, it would be at least a year before she returned. Not, of course, that she ever really cared above half for the gossip-filled little town.


It may have been said previously that Tanamoril practiced nearly all magics (but not necromancy), and was good at them all. This is an exaggeration. Moril was good, or good enough, but if there was one kind of magic that he was terrible at, that might even be called his one failing, was mind magic- the sort that involved telling truth from false, prising information from someone unwilling (which Tanamoril considered black magic anyway) and also things like hypnotism and compulsion (more black magic). He'd seen too much of this interrogation by magic during his war.

However, he was certain that he would need those skills, he thought, dismounting from his mare to give it a much-deserved rest, if he wanted to track the princess. He did not for a moment believe that it was Mandillans who had kidnapped the princess Aemilia. There were no reasons why they would, and there were very few magic-users from Mandilla capable of deflecting scrying spells from a fixed location. If only he had heard of the kidnapping before! He might have scried then. That idiot king had most unfortunately showed good sense when he had kept the kidnapping secret. For as long as it was possible, anyway.

He had traveled incognito for more than a week, now. He was sure the gossips had lost track of him now, so he would arrive at the capital city unobserved. What he would do when he got there... He pondered his dilemma as he trudged into the setting sun, which threw light, over the treetops, most annoyingly into his eyes. He supposed he could learn... But he couldn't use it, even in time and with someone honest as a teacher. The idiot king was sure to attempt his suicidal war soon, even if he couldn't get him, Moril, as his Sorcerer.

Could he get someone to do it for him? But no, that was just as bad. What, oh what, could he do?

At this point Tanamoril wandered right into the middle of the paved road in his consternation. If he had been paying attention, he might have noticed, the danger bearing down on him in the form of Tana's coach to home, specially hired for just that occasion.


Tana was bored. Bored, bored, bored. It wasn't only because of the near-featureless view of farm after farm from the coach, or the nondescript interior of said coach, or the unsightly view of the horses' nether ends.

To keep her mind busy, she tried to meditate. Breathe in seven, hold seven, release seven... But the carriage was too bouncy. She couldn't concentrate.

So then she tried to recite the names of the Seven Magical Creatures of Manape over and over in her head, but no, that was too boring for a carriage ride. It reminded too much of the dull school room in which she had learned them. She cast her mind out for other things.

Unbidden, memories of home came back. She recalled the nervous politeness the people of her little hamlet had used to her face, and the sneering backtalk she heard when her back was turned. Uncivilized little hellspawn. Blight on a fine family. How Tana had kept from burning down the whole place was a concept she couldn't quite grasp.

Unpleasant thoughts of her parents and the house they all lived in followed on the heels of thoughts of the townspeople. It wasn't that they were unpleasant, she conceded. They were just so boring and uptight. They could not deal with the unexpected, nor with anything out of the norm. Like herself. And their sentiments- or personality- whatever, she thought- rubbed off on the mill and the millhouse. She had been glad to get away, and somewhat disappointed that she was going back, even if it was only for a month or two. A month or two too long. She bleakly considered what a nine days' nightmare she would still be to everyone. The talk of the town. Hellspawn, now with training. They tolerated other firewitches, but apparently the notion of such a stain on such a fine, upstanding family... If it wasn't for that omnipresent boredom, she suspected that her hair would burst into flames just thinking of those horrendous two-faced... As it was, her hair threw off sparks.

With effort, she pushed such grim thoughts away. She cast about for something to replace her train of thought without giving way to boredom again.

And so it was that she was almost glad when the man appeared suddenly out of the dark.


Moril had had no time to move, and he was not even aware of his danger until after the horses had swerved, and swerved again to avoid a ditch that gaped ominously out of the side of the road, overturning the coach.

He certainly heard the coachman's foul language- no one could miss such oaths, rendered in such volume- and as he turned, after-dusk or no, he could certainly not miss the carriage, drab brown though it was. And there was no way he could miss the firewitch that blasted out of the coach doors (the ones that faced up, as it would be rather hard to get out of the doors that opened into the dirt), her hair fully aflame.

She clambered, in a rather undignified manner, over the carriage's inert form- mostly undamaged; it just needed to be set back on its wheels- scrambled upright and marched towards Moril, who was rather in a state of shock, and swerved to deal with the coachman. His swears had clearly got on her nerves. Besides, she had heard all of them and more during her time at the University. Since Tana was enjoying herself too much, she didn't bother with a silencing spell- she just slapped him across the face and told him it was impolite to swear in front of a lady- "Namely, me," she said, ignoring the hypocritical fact that she had cursed the air blue on many an occasion herself, which she found almost as satisfying as flaming. The coachman might have been tempted to slap her back, but remembered that she was a firewitch and that this action might prove unwise. He clammed up.

That business done with, she turned to Moril, who had been unsure of whether he should help the coachman or shut him up. Or both. Tana had rather solved his problem, though.

She marched right up to him, invading his personal space- and the magic she could feel roiling off of him could go to the pits of hell, she thought- and began to tell him off for standing in the middle of a well-used carriage road. During this time, the coachman had gotten the horses calmed down and the carriage righted- it was really very light, though he made quite a chore of it. Then, seeing as the firewitch looked like she still wasn't done chewing out the poor wandering soul, and seeing as she could probably use magic to get herself home anyways, he dumped out her baggage and drove off the way he came. Tana didn't notice. She was too busy trolling Moril.

Luckily, Moril knew how to deal with firewitches. He'd be able to deal with this one, too, once he got over his shock.

That, he did. The trick was to bend, but not break. Do or agree as the firewitch said, being completely polite and bland, without showing nervousness, bafflement or anger. Or anything else, really. Then, while the firewitch floundered for something to rail against, one moved off at a leisurely pace- not fast enough to seem as though running away, but not so slowly that the firewitch had time to recover.

"Hey! I'm not done with you!"

Oops. Apparently too slow.


As Moril had turned away, it had occurred to Tana that here was the perfect way to set out into the world- without having to go home first. She demanded that, as repayment for the confusion and delay he had caused her, he would take her baggage to her town, while she took the carriage- "Hey! Where'd it go? Why, that-" Here she launched into a tirade sprinkled liberally with bad language, aimed mostly at the carriageman. Moril started edging away.

Unfortunately- or perhaps fortunately- for him, she noticed. "Oh no, you don't," she said, hazel-green eyes glinting. "Now you definitely have to go drop my stuff off for me."

Moril protested. "I am sorry, but I simply can't. I have urgent business elsewhere."

Tana didn't believe him. They always had "urgent business" whenever she was nearby, in her town, too. "Oh, really? So, what is this 'urgent business'?"

Moril didn't have to think fast for this. "I am going to apply for the post of Royal Sorcerer."

Tana scoffed. "Sure. Well, if you are a sorcerer, then you can transport my trunks to my home. It's right on the outskirts of the capital city anyways."

Figuring that it would get rid of the bossy firewitch if he complied, Moril shrugged and moved over to the trunks. Slowly.

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Introductions. My name's Tana Mil. Yours?"

"...Moril."


It was around midnight when the Millers heard someone at the door. Thinking it was their daughter, arriving very late, they opened it so they could scold her for lack of punctuality. Instead, to their great surprise, they found a tall man in a long cloak, his face hidden in shadow, standing knee-deep in trunks.

"I believe these trunks are your daughter's," the man said, handing them a letter. They stared in shock at their daughter's handwriting on the letter's back. To: Mother and Father. They tore it open, heedless of the envelope scraps drifting away, or of the man with the cloak drifting away, too.

Inside they found a hastily scrawled letter that Tana had written for Moril to give to her parents. In it, she told them she was setting out to seek her fortune. She advised them not to worry, she was going to travel with the man who had delivered her University stuff. He said his name was Moril, and he was a powerful sorcerer. So, no worries.

Being very prominent people in their small town community, they kept up with the gossip. Which meant they knew who Moril was, or rather what his name might be short for. This, they thought, was very, very good. So not only did they have the latest rumored news about Tanamoril the Shadow, he had turned up on their very doorstep! And he'd taken their daughter as an apprentice. This was wonderful! They couldn't wait to tell the others in their circle of acquaintances.


Moril was returning to where he'd tied his horse when he heard a rustle in the bushes behind him. Out strolled Tana, looking as smug as a cat that has been in the cream.

Moril was too shocked to be polite. Luckily for his conscience, an outraged "What are you doing here?" was all he could get out.

"I came to see my parents' reactions, of course."

This infuriated Moril. So he'd done all that work for nothing, for a pushy little girl's prank? "So you've seen their reactions. Now go home!"

Normally, Tana would have exploded at such blatant impoliteness. But she wouldn't have been even that polite in his place, and she was still feeling too self-satisfied to be angry. "Uh-uh," she said, wagging a knowing finger in the air. "Do you know what my parents are like? I've finally set out into the world, and there is no way I'm going back- at least not for a long while yet. Besides, I've decided I'll go to the city to establish myself, and you're going that way, too, so we might as well travel together."

Now she had him trapped. He really was going to the city, though how he would manage any questioning there was- wait. Wait a minute. No one would mistake her for a well-known sorcerer, and he remembered she had mentioned some kind of university while she had been verbally lambasting him. Doubtless she had learned magic there. This... was all falling into place now.

"Alright. On one condition."

He watched her stance take on one of impatience, thinking it to be something menial, or perhaps a request. Oh, how little she knew.